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Personal Note:

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Poem

Lifeless bullets asleep as captive
In the restive barrels of the cold guns
Cold as the shadow of death
Waiting camouflaged in the dark
Wake up at the strike of the trigger
Pulled by crooked fingers of insane men.

The bullets to accomplish the mission 
Whiz on fire to their feral freedom 
Carrying the slices of mad men’s spite
On their zooming shoulders
Shoot off toward the fated targets 
To deliver the message of murder.

Would the bullets stop midair
Abandon the fatal flight
Refuse to become cold blooded killers
Stop and shed the flakes of fury
Fling the lethal intent in the thin air 
And disappear forever.

Would the life they get from fire
In the stillness of the deadly barrel 
Blossom into flowers of the verdant vale
Would they let the living
Breathe free the fragrant air
In this beautiful world.  

Won’t we listen the mute voice of fallen lives 
Imploring our humane sensibility :
Let the bullets sleep forever unfired
In the rusted barrels of the discarded guns 
Let the shooting ones stop midair
Drop as flowers on graveyards.

________________

April 24, 2021

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